


i dreamt we spoke again

by medlli



Series: in memoria [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Coffee Shops, Complicated Relationships, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Post-Canon, Spoilers, also it's pride month happy birthday gays, for akechi's birthday, not super romantic but it's there if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medlli/pseuds/medlli
Summary: It'd been so long,It'd been so long;My mind filled in theblanks.





	i dreamt we spoke again

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday detective backstabbing pancake
> 
>   
>  _you visit me in my dreams. every two weeks, like clockwork. every two weeks, an unfortunate reminder._   
>  ~~...I wish you would stop.~~   
> 

 

 

> ( _your voice was like a ghost_ )

 

“Ah, my apologies. Have you closed already? The sign outside still says 'Open,' but seeing as no one else is here and you’ve already nodded off…”

In the booth farthest from the door, Akira sits up with a start, brow furrowing as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He knows that voice. “… Akechi-san?”

His eyes go wide at the sight, the long deceased standing before him in the flesh. He steals a glance to the left, the _Sayuri_ and the makeshift grave still proudly on display.

This isn’t another one of his dreams taking place in the past.

“Did you… want some coffee?”

“Oh, you don’t have to get up, Kurusu-san. You seem tired and it would appear you’ve already closed—”

The barista gets to his feet with a shake of his head, striding into the kitchen as he waves away the formal cordiality. “Please sit. I’ll have your cup ready in a few.”

He still sees the man in the corner of his eye; he considers the possibility that he’s hallucinating, but it would appear that Akechi Goro has no intentions of leaving his periphery.

Or the store altogether, for that matter.

“Here you go.” Akira settles back into his spot at the booth after placing the cup and saucer in front of Goro. He leaves the teaspoon in the cup in case his customer decides to add the sugar and creamer that sits in the center of the table.

Sitting across from his (supposedly) late friend, he watches as the brunet sips from his cup. The pair dwells in silence like this for over thirty seconds until the specter speaks first. “I know what you want to ask. Feel free.”

“Who the hell are you? How the hell are you here?”

“Well, I’d expect you’d know the answer to the former question by now, but in case you need a reminder…” He plates the cup with a chuckle, steepling his fingers on the table. “I am Akechi Goro. The Second Advent of the Detective Prince.” He picks up the cup again, adding, “At least… I _was_ ,” before taking another sip. “How I’ve reappeared, I can’t quite manage myself. I can recall… blue… and not much else. Something about a sabbatical... but I yearned to leave sooner than I was meant to. So here I am.”

“… Blue.” Akira’s brow creases once more, remembering his time in a peculiar cell. Though he’d tried many times before, maybe if he could find a way back into the Velvet Room this time, he—

“My gratitude as well,” Goro says, pulling his host from his rapid search for answers.

“… For the coffee?”

“For the grave,” he corrects, plating the now half-empty cup as the two gaze upon the slabs of grey. “And the funeral. I… could feel your sorrow. The sorrow that all of you felt.”

“I missed you.” The barista winces at the words he’d blurted out, intentionally ignoring the look of incredulity he’d received. “ _W-We_ missed you. The others’ll be happy to hear you’re back.”

The former detective chortles, stirring his coffee with the teaspoon considerably left for him, unused apart from this action. “I think some of the Phantom Thieves would find themselves more thrilled than others. But even in my sabbatical, I could feel that as well. The grief you all carry. The wish you all cling to. Thank you to you all for keeping me in your consciousness.” Though tinged with ache, Goro smiles at his friend, eyes shimmering with the longing he’d borne for so long.

“My apologies… I hadn’t realized just how great my yearning to return had become…”

Akira’s expression reflects sympathy as the other intercepts tears that had threatened to fall. “Congratulations on your return. Welcome back, Goro.”

“Glad to be back, Akira.”

But in seconds, his beaming smile soon turns into a scowl of concern, right hand clutching the left side of his chest.

“… Goro?”

“A-Ah… It would appear our time is finite…” Though he splays his hand, the red that begins to bloom underneath his fingers doesn’t go unnoticed.

“ _Goro?_ ”

“I… wasn’t meant to return so quickly… Such precious little time… My yearning was too great for my own good… My apologies again, but it would appear my sabbatical is not yet over…”

Akira swiftly leaps to his feet, but before he can slide out of the booth, a weight settles on his body, pinning him in place. “Goro… are you… alright?” he slurs, the pressure growing stronger in order to seat him back into the booth. His arms fold on the table, uncompliant to his brain that screams at him to stand up. His head soon falls upon his arms.

“I’ll be back, Akira. I promise,” the addressed just catches—as though spoken from a distance—consciousness fading as his eyes fall closed.

“ _Wait for me._ ”

“A… Always…”

The shop goes dark once again.

 

* * *

 

“Shit. She’s really gonna kill me if she watches the shop footage again. This isn’t my first offense…”

In the booth farthest from the door, Akira sits up with a start at the sound of his phone’s chime, brow furrowing as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He knows that text tone. “Haru…”

He assumes it’s one of those texts asking if he’d fallen asleep at the café again, overlooking it in favour of getting his bearings straight. All appears as it should… until his eyes fall upon the cup and saucer placed directly across from him.

He stares at the space in confusion before recognition lights his eyes. “… _Goro_.”

He scrambles to his feet, dashing to the door.

Locked. Sign flipped “Closed.”

With two twists and a turn, he throws the shop door open, frantically searching the immediate outdoors to and fro.

Nothing. No one.

Relocking the door, he returns inside, nearly tripping over his own feet on his rush into the kitchen.

The machine. It’s been used.

Akira clutches his forehead, his surge of activity adding to the exhaustion the sleep fog already contributes to debilitating him. “I feel like I was drugged…” he mutters offhandedly. "What did you even say to me… ?"

With a sigh, he returns to his booth, picking up his phone. 00:10; June 2nd, 2023. The calendar reminder of Goro’s birthday shows up in the Notifications section of his lock screen. “… I guess I made this for you?”

He chooses to ignore the lukewarm feel of the cup and saucer—and the markings of slow sips upon the cup—placing them on the altar for his long departed. “Happy birthday.”

‘ _… What an odd dream._ ’

 

* * *

 

~~**Okumura Haru [00:08]:** _You didn’t fall asleep at the shop again, did you?_~~

~~**Kurusu Akira [00:12]:** _No_~~

~~**Kurusu Akira [00:14]:** _… I had a dream about him again._ ~~

~~**Okumura Haru [00:14]:** _Oh Akira…_ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> time for my annual "thing I wrote to cope with trauma" one-shot  
> (you can find last year's [right here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716733) if you'd like)  
> if unable to support me on ko-fi or paypal, please leave a comment here or on [ twitter](http://www.twitter.com/medlli)!  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> _I still miss you, you know. despite everything you did. despite everything you said._  
>  ~~I wish you'd come back.~~  
> 
> 
>   
>  
> 
> [personal twitter](http://www.twitter.com/medlli)


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